Chapter Sixteen
It was hotter than f**k. And dry. All he wanted was a glass of ice water. But if he moved, if he twitched, he’d give away their position to the enemy and they’d all get blown to bits. He still didn’t understand how they’d ended up using the same rendezvous point as the insurgents. Focused on the neck of the target in front of him, the hilt of his knife loosely grasped between his fingers, he was ready to let fly the second recognition hit the guy’s eyes. He would not compromise the mission. The figure turned and the knife clattered from his hand.
What the f**k? Dax?
Travis sat bolt up, body covered in sweat, breathing in great gasps.
Motherfucker.
He covered his eyes, still breathing in huge gulps, heart slamming in his ears.
“Oh God, oh God,” he gasped, hand shaking
